The Spacewolf Diaries
by GEM1588
Summary: Finn Collins triggered the werewolf curse when he killed the reaper to save Clarke. Now it's his first full moon. Luckily (or unluckily) for him Stefan and Damon Salvatore have also survived the apocalypse. What happens when a werewolf ends up in Mystic Falls?


**Title: The Spacewolf Diaries**

**Chapter Rating: T **

**Timeline: The 100 Post 2x08 Spacewalker / TVD: Future fic**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stefan or Damon or Finn. LJ Smith, Kass Morgan and all wonderful people at the CW are the experts. I'm simply playing in their world.

**Author's note:** I suppose I should offer a bit of an explanation before you delve into the story. It started when Finn went completely OOC on the show. I read the commentary that he was supposed to be suffering from PTSD but, honestly, I really wasn't satisfied that explanation. So in my mind I went back to the night in the bunker with Clarke – when he was freaking out and throwing things – and I immediately thought – how very Tyler Lockwood – and then it happened. The inevitable plot bunny:

What if some untriggered werewolves somehow managed to get on the ARK?

* * *

**Chapter: Transformation**

_THEN_

"_I love you too."_

_The Princess finally admitted that she loved him and with those final words lingering in his ears, Finn Collins died at the merciful hand of Clarke Griffin._

_That was the last time any of the ARK survivors saw the delinquent known as "Spacewalker"._

_But Finn's story didn't end there. In fact, the real story was only just beginning…_

* * *

_NOW_

If he thought a Grounder dagger through the chest or being gutted by a make-shift knife hurt, Finn realized that he did not know what real pain was. Searing fire shot through every cell in his body. At the same time it felt as though every bone was shattering into a thousand pieces. The pressure in his head led him to believe his skull was being crushed.

His vision blurred.

His hearing waivered.

He screamed out in agony.

A pair of nearby Grounders came closer to investigate the body they believed to be dead. Finn sensed their presence as they stood over him.

"He's still alive."

"Go tell the Commander."

There were footsteps as one of the soldiers went to deliver the message. Rough hands flipped Finn onto his stomach as the remaining Grounder secured his hands behind his back. Anger welled in the teenager at being restrained and he fought against the bondage.

When Finn's hands ended up by his sides, wrists carrying the threads of broken shackles, he wasn't the only one who was surprised. His capturer let out a disdainful recourse of his own and sunk his gnarled fingers into Finn's thick hair, pushing his face into the dirt.

The boy felt something wet, most likely blood, flow from his nose. But there was no discomfort, so to speak, and Finn became a bit unnerved. The thick sole of a boot pressed between Finn's shoulder blades as the Grounder held him in place, re-securing the chains.

As Finn began to fight back his stomach cramped causing a blinding episode where he lost consciousness. As he came to again, he continued to struggle – realizing that there were several Grounders surrounding him now.

He was able to pull his hands under him again, noting that his wrists were now graced with triple metal bands that covered half of his forearms. The Grounders were shouting things to each other in their native tongue and Finn fought against the delirium and managed to get to his knees.

He could barely hold himself on all fours as the darkness threatened to overtake him again. Struggling to stay awake, he focused on the ground beneath him. Fingers dug into the bare dirt as he maintained his balance but then his spine cracked so loud it sounded like a gunshot. He cried out in pain once more – all too aware that the ring of Grounders were taking steps away from him.

Swords and knives were drawn and Finn lowered his head as the heated flush of nausea floated through his core. Then it was black again.

The Grounders were shouting louder. The mob was waving torches at him, some coming so close as to singe his clothes. He tried to speak, to ask them to stop but words wouldn't come. It was as though his throat had closed. All he was able to manage were a few growl-like sounds.

Those seemed to scare the Grounders and they backed off making a gap in their circle.

An escape.

Finn didn't bother trying to run. He knew that if he did, they'd hunt him down.

Blood for Blood.

There was a final pulse of pain through his entire being. So excruciating that he actually wished it would kill him. Inhuman sounds burst from somewhere inside him and his body trembled.

The shouts around him turned to screams of terror.

"WOLF!" the deep voice boomed. The Grounders fled leaving him there, alone.

Panicked, Finn tried to get to his feet. What kind of animal would have those tough warriors so fearful. He imagined the giant water snake that tried to eat Octavia. The panther they'd barely managed to kill. He didn't even want to know what monstrosity this wolf-thing was.

With his eyes closed he forced himself to move. His limbs felt tired and heavy and it took so much _effort_ to get to his feet again. Then Finn realized he couldn't stand up. Each time he tried he would fall back to the ground.

Finally opening his eyes he looked down and was horrified to find that his hands were no longer hands.

They were hairy with long sharp claws. On his arms were the tattered remains of his shirt. Looking further his pants were torn and thick clumps of black hair poked through the holes. Kicking his feet his boots came off revealing another pair of paws.

What the hell was happening to him? Was it radiation? Was he mutating? Was this going to happen to everyone? Bellamy? Raven? _ Clarke?_

He tried to yell for help. When he opened his mouth his ears echoed with the haunting sounds of pitiful howling.

Frightened, Finn did the only thing he could.

He ran.

As fast and far as he could.

The soft mossy patches were easy on his newly formed paws. The forest took on a whole new look as he viewed it with virgin wolf eyes. Smells and sounds came to life around him.

But so did the darkness.

It kept taking him, cutting away at his consciousness until finally he gave in, letting the beast inside come out as the full moon rose high over the tree line.

* * *

_MYSTIC FALLS, VIRGINIA_

The vampire remained motionless while crouching low beneath the overgrown grass in the meadow. In his sights was today's breakfast, a one-eyed raccoon that had grown as large as a dog. The striped animal was busy eating its own meal, the scraps of a pumpkin-sized apple.

Stefan waited until the animal's head was turned before he struck.

Wiping his mouth clean, the younger Salvatore dropped the limp carcass and continued on his way, knowing that the scavenging animals needed food as well. His silent footsteps carried him across the meadow and toward the forest where tall weeds gave way to pine needle covered trails. He'd been walking these woods every day for over a hundred years. The scenery hadn't changed much at all.

Until today.

The scent of fresh blood carried on the light breeze. Tracking the smell, Stefan found the carcass of a wild buck. The kill was very recent, maybe a couple hours old at most. The vampire investigated further, noting the teeth marks across the long neck and deep gashes against its flanks.

Stefan found it strange that there were five on each side, unusual considering most of the indigenous predators had four or less claws on each paw. Of course, with the radiation induced mutations over the decades he knew that anything was possible.

The buck's stomach was ripped open and it looked as though the majority of the organs had been eaten, but there was still plenty of flesh left on the hindquarters. Stefan removed his knife and began butcher the remainder of the meat. Winter was coming and it would be nice to grill some venison steaks over a nice fire.

He packed everything in the animal's skin and fastened it with some rubbery vines growing nearby. When he was satisfied that it would hold the weight, he hoisted it up on his shoulder and turned in the direction of the Boarding House.

What he didn't expect to see was a mostly naked guy standing there watching him. When their eyes met, Stefan saw the black haired boy's eyes immediately lower as he raised his hands submissively over his head.

Covered in a mixture of blood and dirt, Stefan couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Every once in a while they would get a visitor from one of the local tribes. While Damon usually used it as an opportunity to feed, Stefan preferred to send them back home.

"Go back to your village," Stefan called out to him, using the dialect of the closest settlement. But instead of walking away, the boy came closer arms still raised.

"I need you to take me to the Commander," he stated, holding his hands out in front of him with his wrists pressed together – as if asking to be bound and dragged.

"There's no Commander here," Stefan answered, sensing the sanity of this person might be the reason he was wandering nude and alone through the woods.

"They have a camp," the boy continued to explain. "At the base of Mount Weather."

Stefan's head cocked sideways. "Mount Weather is over a hundred and fifty miles from here."

"What?" The brown eyes of the boy glazed in confusion. "I was just there last night…." he paused, rubbing his temples. "At least, I thought it was last night but…" he trailed off again looking around at the trees.

He was dazed and slightly disoriented but Stefan didn't smell a drop of liquor on him. "I'm Stefan. What's your name?" the vampire asked taking a few steps forward offering his hand. The boy accepted his gesture of friendship.

"I'm Finn….of the Sky People."

"Sky People? I take it you're not from around here."

"No. Actually I came from a space station orbiting the earth…"

"Is that so…?"

Stefan listened as Finn explained how the space station he'd lived on had some sort of engineering defect and they couldn't produce enough oxygen to stay alive. He was part of a group sent to the ground to see if it was survivable. His group had run into some problems with a tribe he referred to as "Grounders". Currently Finn was trying to get back a place called Camp Jaha which was quite a distance away.

In the middle of Finn's monologue, a slow rain started to fall in the forest. At first Stefan could barely feel the drops under the wooded canopy but the force grew steadier.

"God speed, Finn," Stefan nodded to the traveler as he pointed the way out of the woods.

"Thank you, Stefan," he replied as he turned away. Barefoot and stepping gingerly on the path, Finn took a half dozen steps forward. When he looked back over his shoulder for Stefan, he was nowhere to be seen.

Finn walked and walked. His feet were sore and his legs were stiff. The rain had stopped for the moment but the ground was muddy and slick. In the distance he could see a village and hoped to find somewhere to rest. But as he approached on the fringes, his nostrils flared as a putrid scent invaded them.

A long line of dead bodies was laid out in the distance with an even longer line of mourners.

Finn stayed at a distance, his ears picking up conversations that seemed too far away for him to overhear – but for some reason he could. Most of it was in another language and he didn't understand what was being said but there were a few words spoken in English that were very clear.

Wolf.

Hunt it.

Kill it.

It was the word_ kill_ that sent a shiver down his spine. His hand inadvertently reached for his side, where Clarke had stabbed him. His fingers trembled as the grazed over the skin not finding the wound. Immediately he looked down, searching his skin for some sort of cut or scab.

But there was nothing.

He looked at his chest for the scar from the stitches Clarke had sewn into him. They weren't there either.

None of this made senses.

In fact, he thought for a minute that he might be dead. That was until one of the men in the village held a spear to his throat, speaking words that Finn couldn't translate.

He fell to his knees in submission. "I'm Finn, of the Sky People. I come in peace."

"You speak the warrior language," the man replied looking to a group of burly looking men with various weapons. "Tell us what you know of the Wolf."

"I don't know anything," Finn kept his body low and his hands in plain sight. "I never saw a wolf."

"He lies." A voice called.

"I'm not lying," Finn's lips pressed together. He was tired of being accused, tired of spears and swords and knives and fighting and war. All he wanted to get back to Camp Jaha and see Clarke.

The spear pressed against his throat slicing his skin.

Fury welled inside Finn and he felt himself crack again. "I said I'm not LYING," he roared reaching out for the spear and breaking it in half as he got to his feet.

He only half heard the women screaming something about his eyes.

Then there was a sea of torches and he was forced to run – again. Fleeing back into the woods he took several detours and back tracked until the hunters were in front of him. Hiding, he listened to their leader shouting orders.

"We must kill the wolf before the next full moon!"

Clarke had been right – the more they learned about this place, the less they knew.

Finn put his tracking ability to use. He followed the trail back to the place where he'd met Stefan. The man who offered his hand as a sign of goodwill. The man who wished him a safe journey. Finn knew there were people out there who wanted peace. He hoped that Stefan was one of them.

Despite the conditions, Finn was able to find the imprints of Stefan's boots. He broke through the trees and in the distance was a giant building in the middle of large open pastures. Smoke rose from the chimney and the scent of food carried through the air. Soaked and exhausted he made his way to the door, knocking with his knuckles a few times.

The door was opened by a dark haired man, with a wry smirk and a glass of something in his hand. "Hey Stefan," he yelled into the far reaches of the house. "Save the steak. My _real_ dinner just arrived."


End file.
